


Sunday Morning

by punkrockgaia



Series: Eternity!Vale [3]
Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Breakfast, Domesticity, Eternity!Vale, Kitchen Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-22
Updated: 2014-06-22
Packaged: 2018-02-05 19:27:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1829515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkrockgaia/pseuds/punkrockgaia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lazy Sunday morning at the Harlan-Palmers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunday Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little compare/contrast and cuddly porn from the Eternity!Vale 'verse, 'cause as Maiden of the Moon says, the Night Vale fandom needs HELP! (Happy Earl with Lots of Porn)

Two men sit across from each other at a smallish kitchen table, late-morning Sunday light streaming through pine trees just outside the window. Earl's dressed -- he's been up for hours. He's hiked, showered, and cooked breakfast, a breakfast that he is now heartily chowing down. A day spent in bed after sunrise is a day half wasted, that's his motto. 

Cecil's in a pair of chartreuse satin pajamas and an electric-blue bathrobe with a cheetah print -- he's been awake for all of ten minutes, and it's ten minutes too long, if you ask him. He's squinting at the paper through a pair of browline glasses and smoking a cigarette. The ashtray sits next to his untouched breakfast plate.

Both men have cups of coffee next to them. It's Folger's, but the good kind, the stuff that comes in a bag (a compromise). Earl brews his on the lightish side in the drip maker his parents gave him for his first apartment. It's buff-colored, milky and tooth-achingly sweet. Cecil's comes from the French press sitting just at the crook of his elbow. It's strong and he drinks it black, though he's not in the least opposed to a Frappucino when they make it into civilization.

Earl finishes his breakfast and looks longingly at Cecil's. Cecil folds down the corner of his paper and nods, then pushes his plate across the table. Earl grins and tucks into Breakfast II, Bacon's Revenge. Cecil returns to his paper and lights another cigarette. 

The men are different physically, as well. Earl is shorter and broader, with muscles toned not in the gym but by trails and streams and the deep, embracing heart of the forest. He hikes, he mountain bikes, he canoes, does all sorts of active stuff that worries Cecil sick when he stops to think about his man, alone, out there in the woods, most likely breaking his neck. His eyes are hazel. His hair is a vibrant shade of red that earned him nicknames in school. Even with all the time he spends out of doors, he's as fair as rice pudding, with cinnamon freckles sprinkled liberally across his skin. 

Cecil _loves_ rice pudding, especially with cinnamon.

Cecil, on the other hand, is taller but slighter. He's not thin, not exactly, but compared to Earl he's delicate. He runs once in a while, then coughs up a lung and declares that running is bad for you. He rides his bicycle when his car is broken. That's about it. His hair is a striking platinum that some of his less charitable acquaintances speculate must come out of a bottle. His eyes are a light cornflower blue. His skin is is an even medium tan, the shade of the natural peanut butter that they buy in the organic food aisle at the grocery store. 

Earl can't get enough of that peanut butter.

Cecil loves westerns. Earl loves sappy romantic comedies. Cecil loves high school football. Earl doesn't know a running back from a Hail Mary pass, and mostly goes to the game to eat hot dogs. 

It shouldn't work. They shouldn't be this deliriously happy. But for all their differences, it does work. They're a good team. Earl snares squirrels, and Cecil guts and skins them, and the two of them make the best squirrel pot pie in the county. Cecil starts jigsaw puzzles, and Earl finishes them. Cecil washes, Earl dries. They compliment each other.

Cecil puts down the paper and watches his husband devour his breakfast. "Neanderthal." He says it with a smile.

"Hipster." Earl puts down his fork and takes Cecil's hand.

Cecil's lips twist in a wry grin, and he gets up from his chair and moves over to Earl's, straddling his lap. "Redneck."

Earl groans and runs his hands over Cecil's shoulders, down his back to his ass, which he squeezes. "Nerd."

Cecil purrs at the contact. "Backwoods hillbilly." He presses a kiss to the top of Earl's head. 

Earl kisses his neck. "Sissified city-boy." He pulls back slightly to get a better look at the man in his lap, brushes his sleep mussed hair back from his forehead. "Goddamn, you're beautiful, Ceese."

Cecil blushes and puts up a hand to cover his face. "No... I'm just average. But you..." He runs his hands across Earl's chest. "You're gorgeous. Look at your amazing body..." He unbuttons Earl's flannel shirt and untucks his undershirt, cool fingers teasing over the skin of his abdomen. 

Earl nibbles at the sensitive skin just below Cecil's earlobe. "Love you so much, Baby Doll..." 

Cecil bites his lower lip and arches his back. "Ohhh, I love you too, Early Bird." He nuzzles along Earl's neck, loving the clean scent of soap that still clings to his skin after his shower. "You're so amazing. I don't know what I did to deserve you."

"I dunno, probably something pretty bad, though..." Earl snickers as Cecil lightly slaps him upside the head. "No, really, though, Babe. You're the one that's amazing. God, I love to watch you move. You're so damned graceful. You're like a cat or something." His voice grows husky and he pulls Cecil forward so that their hips are flush against one another. Cecil gets the hint and begins to rock back and forth. Earl answers with a motion of his own, and suddenly it's a lot harder to form coherent sentences. 

"Earl, oh, Earl, _fuck_ ," Cecil pleads through gritted teeth as the slippery material of his pajama pants slides over his throbbing erection, driving him crazy. He reaches down between them and unbuttons and unzips the fly of Earl's jeans, extracting him from inside the denim confines. 

Earl hisses as the cool air of the kitchen hits him and Cecil grasps him and starts to stroke. He grips Cecil directly through the soft fabric of his sleepwear, where a wet spot has started to form. "Christ, Cecil, yeah, oh, yeah..." His head lolls back as Cecil speeds his fist. They stroke and squeeze and rut against each other furiously, the kitchen chair squeaking on the wooden floor as it shifts under their weight. 

Earl jumps in the chair, his free hand gripping Cecil's ass, feeling his fingers dig into the firm flesh there. "Oh, oh, Cecil, Cecil, Baby! Oh, my baby, yes!" He feels his balls tighten and his cock spasm as Cecil wraps his legs around Earl's and lets loose a deep, desperate moan and a large, dark, sticky patch appears on the front of his pajamas. His muscles twitch as he slumps against Earl's broad chest. Earl strokes his back, murmuring soothing nothings into Cecil's ear. 

They stay like that for a moment, then Cecil climbs off of Earl, grimacing a bit at the stiffness in his legs. He's not as young as he used to be. He looks down at his sodden pants and sighs.

"Well, these are going directly in the wash." 

Earl smiles brightly. "All _right_! That means you can get dressed and join me outside for some yard work!"

Cecil sticks his tongue out. "Or, you know, I could just go back to bed." He strips bare in the middle of the kitchen and pads nude into the little laundry room just off the kitchen. Earl watches him go, whistling appreciatively. His eyes fall on the blinking light of the answering machine. 

"Oh, hey, Cee! We have a message!" He presses play. A bright, cheery voice comes from the machine.

"Mr. Harlan! This is Kevin from StrexCorp Synernists, Incorporated, giving you **another** call. You're a hard man to track down, but we are _very_ persistent. As you certainly already know, we're interested in booking one of your adventure tours for our annual corporate retreat. Call us back, we won't take no for an answer!" The man then rattles off a phone number in an unfamiliar area code. Earl hesitates for just a moment, then hits the delete button. He wanders back into the laundry room, where a still-nude Cecil is putting his pajamas in the sink to soak. 

"Hey, Ceese, did you hear that?"

"Yeah, that pain-in-the-ass company that's been stalking you, right?"

"Yeah. Man, who could sound that happy being stuck at work on a Sunday? It just ain't natural." 

"Yeah, weird." Cecil cocks his head to the side and considers his husband. "Yuck, you're pretty gross."

"Geeze, thanks."

"No, I mean your clothes. Look."

Earl looks down and sees what Cecil's talking about, the sticky spatters that now adorn the front of his once-pristine flannel. "Oh, yeah..."

"Good thing I'm around; you probably would have gone into town like that." His nimble fingers pluck at Earl's clothing and soon they're both standing naked on the linoleum tile. He pivots and tosses Earl's jeans and shirts into the sink along with his pajamas, then wraps his arms around his husband. "I was serious when I said I was going back to bed. But you know, I wouldn't mind having some company..."

Earl squeezes Cecil tight and beams. "That's the best idea I've heard all day!" He slaps Cecil on the ass, then allows himself to be led through the house, hand-in-hand with the man he loves.


End file.
